Beware of Dog
by Tinkerbell99
Summary: Hurley had a theory. It seems that man's best friend...maybe isn't.


Title: Beware of Dog

Author: Tinkerbell99

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They belong to someone else.

Summary: Hurley had a theory. It seems that man's best friend…maybe isn't.

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_Thump, thump, thump._

Sawyer shifted his leg away from Vincent's wagging tail.

_Thump, thump, thump. _

Vincent moved closer and let out a whine, eyeing Sawyer expectantly.

"You got somebody else to bother, dog? There's a whole damn beach full of people."

For his trouble, Sawyer received only a wide yawn and additional panting.

"Fine," Sawyer muttered before relenting and scratching Vincent behind the ear. Silent company was hard to find on this island and he'd take what he could get. "But I ain't sharing my food."

Absently patting the dog, Sawyer continued trying to read, only to be interrupted by the sound of Charlie and his guitar drifting up the beach. Gritting his teeth, Sawyer vowed to ignore the noise for at least a few more minutes. "Give somebody else a chance to hit him," he muttered softly.

Moments later, a shadow crossed Sawyer's tent. "Dude…Are you sure you want to be doing that?"

Looking up, Sawyer found Hurley standing before him. "Doing what, Porky?"

"You know…" Hurley looked uneasy. "Hanging with the dog."

"What the hell's the problem with the dog?" Sawyer asked, covertly checking for signs of fleas or foam. None were found, and in the background Charlie continued to sing.

"Well, nothing. I mean…it's just…I kinda have this…theory."

Eyebrows raised, Sawyer looked at Hurley expectantly. It was becoming increasingly clear that solitude wasn't anywhere in the cards for this afternoon. Hurley, for his part, continued to stare warily at Vincent.

"Well? You care to elaborate or do I just get to guess?"

Uneasily, Hurley lowered himself to the sand, keeping a fair distance between himself and the canine. "Just…this island's kinda weird, right?" Receiving no response save a disbelieving smirk, he continued, "And the stuff that happens here…it's a little…off."

"You going somewhere with this?" Sawyer growled, setting his magazine to the side and removing his glasses.

Still nervously eyeing Vincent, Hurley continued, "So, all I'm saying is…you can't be too careful."

"Too careful of what?" Sawyer spit.

"Well, everyone knows there's some sort of giant monster thing out there in the jungle. And then there's that whole tribe of, you know, crazy people ready to chop us all into little bits." Warming to his theory, Hurley continued, "And there's the hatch with that guy and the numbers and the nutty French chick out there with the guns and polar bears and-"

"Look," Sawyer stopped him before he could go on. "The island recap is great, but I was here when this movie started. You got a point or what?"

Hurley hesitated before speaking, unsure if he should reveal the weight of his thoughts. "Dude…I think it's the dog."

"What?"

"All the bad stuff that happens here…or at least a lot of it. I think it's the dog."

Sawyer gawked at him, wondering if perhaps the heat was finally proving too much. "How the _hell_ is it the _dog_?"

"Well…first there was Walt, right? I mean, the dog was his and he got kind of…taken."

Sawyer shrugged and busied himself scratching Vincent behind the ears. Walt wasn't his favorite person to think about, let alone to discuss with the cream puff.

Undaunted, Hurley continued his case. "I mean, that was sort of normal for this place and all, and nobody thought anything of it at the time, but before he left…he gave the dog to Shannon."

The weight of that word didn't fall to deaf ears. Even so, Sawyer continued to scoff. "You're blaming that on Fido too? Ain't like the dog can hold a gun."

"Well, no. But she was following it into the jungle when she got…dead."

Sawyer withdrew his hand from the dog's shaggy coat.

"So," Sawyer drawled, brushing fur from his sleeve, "Because Walt gets taken by the hillbillies and the princess gets herself shot, the dog's cursed. Right." With a smirk, Sawyer pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked around for his reading material.

"Look, man, I know a thing or two about bad luck, okay?"

"Yeah, well, don't we all."

"Anyway, after Shannon…yeah. Michael took the dog back. It was kinda the only thing he talked to until he…left."

Sawyer sat up a little straighter, hand stopping in mid-reach. Edging quietly away from Vincent's wagging tail, he realized with some trepidation that Hurley was, for the first time, making some sense.

Hurley noticed the sudden change, but continued on with his story. "So now nobody knows where he is or if he's coming back. And then there's the way it's always…watching us."

Vincent yawned and almost seemed to smile.

"You really believe all that crap, Chubs?" Sawyer asked quickly, noticing Hurley start to stand.

"I'm just saying, dude. Man's best friend…maybe isn't." With that he turned and walked away.

Settling back to his reading, Sawyer found it difficult to focus. In addition to the dog's quick pants, Charlie was still screeching down the beach. The echoes of Hurley's words did little to ease his mind. Surely it was only a coincidence. Dogs couldn't be cursed. Damn things were dumb as bricks anyway. No way could it have gotten rid of the kid.

Or Shannon.

Or Michael.

Vincent yawned again and looked expectantly at Sawyer before placing a paw on his hand almost…knowingly.

Damn.

He had to get rid of that dog.

Heaving a sigh, Sawyer scratched his head while Vincent looked on, his strangely intelligent eyes following his companion's every move. Maybe it was a coincidence, but Sawyer wasn't taking any chances.

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"Hey, Bono, thought you might like some company."

Charlie looked up from his guitar to see Sawyer standing before him with Vincent at his side.

"Really? I thought it rather preferred you."

"Yeah, well…" Sawyer trailed off. "Think maybe I'm allergic."

"Really? Sorry to hear that." Charlie began to scratch Vincent behind the ear, the dog looking cautiously from him, to Sawyer, then back again before licking Charlie on the face.

Sawyer grinned, pleased with his work. "Probably needs a walk," he called as they parted. Turning away, he added, "Deep in the jungle."

Smiling to himself, Sawyer returned to his tent and resumed his reading in silence, secure with his safety on the island.


End file.
